


Somewhere I Belong

by AutumnDreams



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: A New Life, A New Village, AU No Magic, Alternate Universe, Family, Family Fluff, Fluff, Happy Beginnings, Peasant Belle (Once Upon a Time), Peasants, Somewhere I Belong, Spinner Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold, Sylva, Woobie Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold, a happy story, finding hope
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-01
Updated: 2017-08-17
Packaged: 2018-12-09 14:22:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11670807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AutumnDreams/pseuds/AutumnDreams
Summary: It has been a long journey; six weeks by his estimate; and they are nearing the end; or should be if the clearing below is, in fact, the location of the future village of Sylva. Their new home. A non-magical AU story set in the new realm of Ningues where refugees of The Great Ogre War set out to begin life again.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello my dear readers and welcome to 'Somewhere I Belong', my next OUAT story. This story is set in an AU universe and does not include magic nor do I foresee it including anything but mere mentions of Queen Snow. Rumpelstiltskin is a poor spinner who has sought refuge in a far away kingdom with his five-year-old son Baelfire. Belle is the daughter of a farmer and inventor named Maurice, who along with Belle has sought refuge in the town with his son Gideon. As I have no clue where this story is going except for fluffy Rumbelle, I'm opening this up for prompts and requests as to what you would like to see.

The sun has just reached the horizon when a hesitant voice says “Papa?”

“What’s wrong Bae?” a weary man asks, his eyes never straying from the dirt path they are traveling.

“Can we stop?” The boy fidgets in his seat, legs squeezed together. “I really have to pee.”

With a long sigh, Rumpelstiltskin pulls on the reigns, slowing the tired mules to a stop. “Make it quick,” he says, offering a weak but genuine smile to the boy. He watches the boy jump down, his little head bopping along beside the cart as he races to the back wheel. It has been a long journey; six weeks by his estimate; and they are nearing the end; or should be if the clearing below is, in fact, the location of the future village of Sylva.

Their new home.

By his estimation, they should reach the location before dark – just. He knows there’ll be no time to do anything but tether the mules and sheep to their pick lines and hopefully find enough kindling to build a fire, but that’ll be enough. It has to be. The morning will be a new day, a fresh start. After years of struggling from war; of worrying if there’d be enough food to feed his boy or if they’d be protected enough in their little village; Rumpelstiltskin is desperate for this fresh start.

Even more, he yearns to live in a place where he will be known as more than the village coward. To be more than a lame man, friendless, with a five-year-old son to raise and an ex-wife who ran off with a pirate. It will be difficult, he knows, settling in these dense forests so far from all they’ve known, but he has his wheel, his sheep, and his boy. When they reach the settlement of Sylva they will be no different than the other refugees who have sought a new home in Ningues, directed there by the kind clerk for Queen Snow.

From his vantage point on the wagon, Rumpelstiltskin looks across the tree tops below. Ningues was their last hope, a vast but sparsely populated Kingdom in The Enchanted Forest whose treacherous mountains and wooded paths kept the Ogres at bay. So many had stayed in the other realms, refusing to surrender to the fiends laying waste to their lands, but Rumpelstiltskin had refused. He had seen what the Ogres were capable of, had fought and been maimed in the early years of the current war, and had no wish to risk his son. And so, he had traded their hut and barn, along with their cow, to a family just arriving from another land. In exchange, he had procured a wagon and a team of mules, allowing his on and him to pack up their meager belongings, his wheel, and their remaining sheep to seek out a safer land.

A small but steady stream of refugees had given them direction to Ningues, allowing the pair to follow slowly behind through destitute kingdoms. It had been a difficult journey, the mules and sheep sometimes going without food for days until an unburned pasture could be found. For weeks, they had slept on the rough boards of the wagon, father and son huddled together in the chilly nights, thankful for the canvas cover when summer rains had beaten down. Scavenging for whatever food they could find in the ravaged landscapes and drinking the rain water Bae caught in his little buckets.

Bae. With a sigh, Rumpelstiltskin watches as his boy climbs back into the wagon, his tiny hands pulling his body up the side of the wood. Throughout it all, the boy had not uttered one ounce of complaint. He had listened to his papa, helped as much as a five-year-old could, and cuddled close in the long, lonely evenings. He’d gathered twigs when they were available, running along the wagon as they traveled, tossing them into the seat beside his father.

But most of all, Bae loved him.

To the man, that was the most precious thing of all. Smiling at the boy as he settled beside him, Rumpelstiltskin ran his hand over his son’s hair, ruffling it as he used his other hand to move the mules on. Soon – they’d be in their new home.

 

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	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Sorry for the delay - real life got in the way. Hoping to update again in the next couple of days where we'll finally get to meet Belle, and also see what kind of land Rumpelstiltskin and Bae will be gifted. As mentioned before, this is my first prompt verse, so feel free to leave your requests and prompts either in a comment, or by visiting my tumblr at thegrrlgeek8.

It is early the next morning when Rumpelstiltskin wakes, rays of morning sunlight just peaking over the horizon. He blinks, allowing his eyes to adjust to the inky light of twilight as he allows both his mind and body to wake slowly. It is a luxury he is not often awarded and one he knows probably will not come for a long time. He becomes more aware of their surroundings as he wakes more; the hard wood of the wagon floor beneath their bodies, the dewy chill seeping through their threadbare blanket, high-pitched coos and squawks of the wildlife coming awake, the trickling of a water from some nearby river or stream.

And voices.

They don't bother him.

Much.

He's worried, of course. It'd be a lie if he said anything different. They're in a new place where they know not a soul, dependent on the generosity of strangers in another Kingdom. Granted, most in this new village are refugees as well and the Kingdom has stationed a reasonable sized military presence within the village, but it is all new. If anything were to happen to him, what would happen to Bae? Shifting on the wood, Rumpelstiltskin pulls the small boy curled into his side closer, tucking more of the blanket around him to ward off some of the chill.

His boy is the only joy in his life.

Bae's warm breath plays across his cool skin as his little head settles in Rumpelstiltskin's neck. Their sleeping arrangements are not the most comfortable; they haven't been for weeks; and yet the boy had not complained. Most nights he just wedged himself between his Papa and the wagon wall, his little head tucked into the crevice between his father's neck and shoulder. Finger's running through Bae's hair gently, Rumpelstiltskin's thoughts begin to drift to all that must be done.

First thing first is the meeting with the newly appointed mayor to the village – Monsieur le Maire – a transplant from the border town of Oppidum. They had met briefly the night before when Rumpelstiltskin and Bae had arrived in the village; just long enough for Rumple to hand over the papers given to them for safe passage and a plot of land, and the mayor to peruse them. The man had seemed friendly enough as he directed them to the field behind the makeshift Barracks for the night with the promise of meeting the next morning to go over the expectations of the village.

It's this that has him awake this morning.

From the information he has been given, Rumpelstiltskin knows that there is a plot of land waiting for them somewhere in the village; 15 acres according to the paperwork. That was more land than he'd ever thought to have in his life. It means substance for Bae and him. Hard work, yes, but it will give them the ability to not only tend to their sheep but also have a garden in the years to come. A larger flock in the years to come too, equating to more wool to spin and the chance for a greater income. Perhaps even a goat or a cow for milk one day. Some chickens for eggs.

It means he can provide for his son in a way he's never been able to before.

The thought alone is enough to fill him with hope.

The downside though, is that there is no shelter on the land. No hut for Bae and he, no barn for the animals. They would all need adequate shelter sooner rather than later and he's not sure how that is going to happen. He is but one man; and a lame one at that. Just the thought of gathering the materials is enough to push down the hope. With his leg, he'll never be able to chop down the trees needed or lift them up to build the support of the frames. Hopefully there'll be some on the ground, but then, what kind of quality would they be? Then there's the sticks they'll need for the wattle of the houses. Bae's old enough at five to collect them but Rumpelstiltskin will still need to be with him as he does it.

Sighing, Rumpelstiltskin hugs Bae tightly, leaning down to press his lips gently against the boy's hair. "I'll figure it out," he mutters, turning his cheek to rest against his sons head. "One way or another, I'll figure it out."


End file.
